A Tryst in the Trees
by Timelord-In-Camelot
Summary: They are both running from the same people. She runs from the loss of her father. He runs in fear of his life. So what happens when the two clash heads in the middle of the forest, if she can't trust and he can't speak?
1. Chapter 1

**Description****:** **They are both running from the same people. She runs from the loss of her father. He runs in fear of his life. So what happens when the two clash heads in the middle of the forest, if she can't trust and he can't speak?**

The two things Morgana LeFay knew at that moment in time were her name and the fact that she hated everyone. Absolutely everyone. Anyone that crossed her path – it was their fault.

Uther Pendragon. It was definitely his fault. It was because of that stupid, arrogant, heartless coward of a King that her father was dead. Killed in battle, they said, an honourable way to die. More like cold-blooded murder. That's how she saw it anyway.

Although, no-one else seemed to share her vision, especially when she'd screamed it at Uther and his entire council during a meeting and then proceeded to try and hit the King.

A pair of dumbfounded looking guards had dragged her away, kicking and shouting profanities, but not before she had managed to rake her fingernails down Uther's face, cutting his cheeks with the sharp edges.

The last image that had filled her mind as she was carried out of the hall, was the sight of the King of Camelot wiping blood away from his face onto his sleeve.

She had secretly delighted in this after she had been locked away in her chambers again, with two men standing outside the doors. 'Protecting her.' Well, that's what one of them had said when she'd tried escaping. If someone wanted to protect her, then they wouldn't have let her father die. She had sat there for hours that night on her bed, in the same position the whole time, thinking. She wanted to hurt Uther again. It was like some kind of primal need to cause his pain, some kind of hunger to hurt him like he'd hurt her. She had wanted to take action immediately, wanted something physical to fuel her undying rage.

Until she got the idea. If Uther cared about her so much, then how would he react to the disappearance of his precious ward? _Ward._ She hated that there was a word for her current predicament, like she was different, not accepted. Also, the fact that ward sounded like whore. And she _definitely_ did not want people thinking that she was one of _those._

So, she'd found some rope in a rickety old cupboard that she didn't even know opened until then. Her bed was shoved up against the window and the rope was tied to one of her bed posts. After she had bravely ventured out of the window, clinging to the cord for dear life, it became clear that the rope was not long enough to reach all the way down to the grass. So she had to jump, or rather fall, the remaining 4 metres. The ability to cry out had been lost when her back had hit the earth, knocking the air from her lungs.

Unable to move for a few seconds, Morgana had started to wonder how much damage the fall had actually caused her. But soon her breathing returned to normal and she picked herself up, brushing off the dirt that had collected on the securely fastened cape around her shoulders.

She then set out to find the small dagger that she had thrown down, thankful that she hadn't landed on the blade, rooting around in the darkness until she eventually found it.

Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to leave in the middle of the night. She didn't have a light and only had a small weapon that was really only suitable for killing animals, not defending herself against bandits or powerful sorcerers. Uther said that the forest was crawling with druids, witches and wizards, always making someone go with her if she wanted to go riding. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and set off into the woodland.

**. . . **

The only things Merlin knew at that moment in time, was that he was called Merlin, his thoughts were all scrambled and that he had to get away from the people in red.

He also knew that he had to get back to some place called Ealdor because that's where he lived. Supposedly. His mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

He had no idea where he was, only that there were lots of trees. He was also pretty sure there was a word for a place with lots of trees, but his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

He had been walking since dark and now it was light. He sighs and kicks a rock away with his boot and then breaks into a run. The people dressed in red would be catching up with him soon if he didn't hurry.

**. . . **

Morgana was now in daylight, her legs aching and she was beginning to wonder why she hadn't brought her horse with her. Then she remembered that she was trying to make it appear as though she had been kidnapped and that if her horse was missing from the stables then it would be quite obvious that she hadn't been taken in the night.

She swears – a luxury she wasn't allowed in Camelot – and scuffs at the leaves when she realises that the rope she used to climb out of the window would still be there now. How careless of her. Hopefully Uther would be so blinded by panic and anger that he would think up some ridiculous story about she was abducted through the window and then probably send out a search party.

She stops walking and looks behind her. Half of Camelot could be looking for her right now.

The thought makes her strides larger and faster as she starts running. The running turns into sprinting and she turns to corner of the trail and slams into something. Blinding pain shoots through her forehead, making her vision blur, and she is vaguely aware of falling to the ground and someone standing over her before she blacks out entirely.

**. . . **

Merlin's head hurt. A lot. Even more than it had before.

He was pretty sure the girl's head hurt too because she wasn't moving and her eyes were closed. At one point, he thought the girl was dead because she hadn't moved for so long, but then he remembered that people who were dead didn't breathe and this girl was definitely breathing. Well, he thought she was. But his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

He had propped her against a tree and tried talking to her to hopefully wake her up, but then he remembered that he couldn't speak. He didn't know why. It was like his brain and his mouth were all disconnected.

He saw she had a cut on her forehead, probably from when they'd bumped into each other, and it was bleeding. Quite badly. Well, at least it was, before he had torn off a bit of his shirt and pressed it against her head. He had wanted to go and get some water to clean the cut and he thought he remembered passing a small stream not so long ago, but he was scared to leave her. What if she woke up and wondered where she was?

He sat there for a while and tried to figure out who she was. She was very... oh, he'd think of the word later. She had a dress on, he knew that much. And some shoes. And her hair was the same colour as his. And so was her skin. He wondered what colour her eyes were. Maybe they were the same colour as his.

He wondered what colour her cloak was. It was... well, he didn't know. He couldn't remember the names of any colours. The people who were chasing after him had the same colour cloaks as her. Oh, what were they? Red. That was it! She had a red cloak on. For a moment he panicked because he thought that she was one of the people looking for him. But the people who were looking for him were all men and she was a girl, so he knew that he had nothing to fear. Well, he thought she was a girl. But his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

**Yeaaah, I don't really know what this is, but it's nice to write. It's one of those 'Merlin and Morgana meet as kids, blah blah,' but I kind of wanted to do one with a bit of a difference.**

**The only thing I can really think of to say is please review and tell me if you want me to continue or not? Or just tell me it's complete and utter rubbish and take it off FanFiction immediately because it's a disgrace to this lovely ship. :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

When she wakes up, it is dark again. She is sat up against a tree and there is a fire. There is a boy, asleep, sitting opposite her. He looks about her age, maybe younger. He is quite skinny, she could easily overpower him in a fight, especially with her dagger. Her hand goes to her waist, where the weapon was slotted into her belt, to find it is missing. She looks around the forest floor, scanning the leaves for the blade. No such luck. She looks over at the boy. He has it. The dagger is clutched in his hand.

She scowls at his sleeping face and stands up as quietly as she can. The blood drains from her face and her legs go to jelly as soon as she reaches her full height, so she is forced to sit back down again, scraping her back against the tree bark.

She sighs and picks at the grass while she waits for the sudden nausea to subside. During the wait, she looks at the boy again. He looks a bit... a bit like an elf. With the big ears and the pale skin and the dark hair. Perhaps he had light eyes, too. Maybe blue, or green. She stops when she realises that she is practically describing herself as well as the boy.

Did she look like an elf, too? She subconsciously touches her ears – they weren't as big as the boy's. She wondered if he had green blood. It may sound strange, but in all of the stories she'd read, the elves had green blood to match the colour of the leaves of the trees they were born in. Each family lived in a different tree. If an elf was killed by a human, then the family members could identify if it was one of their own because of the colour of their blood. The books said that most elves looked very similar, so this was a good method to use. But she had no desire of cutting this boy – or elf – open to see. And this boy – elf or not - still had her dagger.

Morgana goes onto her hands and knees, mainly because she didn't want to feel ill again, and crawls over to him. She crouches down in front of him, her eyes constantly flickering between his closed ones and the dagger, trying to prise is gently from his surprisingly tight grip.

At the point where she almost has it freed, his fingers twitch around the handle, so she looks up at him.

His eyes are wide open and he is staring right at her. She nearly jumps out of her skin, but holds his gaze. The boy's unblinking blue eyes bore into her own uncertain, green ones. Uncomfortable with the length of time they'd made and held eye contact, she drops her eyes back down to the dagger.

"Can... can you give it back now?"

He stares at her a moment longer and then loosens his grip, letting her slide the dagger away and attach it back onto her belt.

"Thank you," she says quietly, sitting back against her tree.

At this point, Merlin had wanted to say something to make her laugh, like 'It's okay, you can stab me whenever you want now,' but his mouth didn't respond to his thoughts. So he nods instead.

"I'm Morgana," she introduces herself.

He nods again. _Moorgarna_.

"What's your name?" Moorgarna asks him.

His heart sinks and she sighs impatiently, throwing a small stick into the fire.

"You're not very talkative, are you?"

He shakes his head.

"_Can_ you talk?"

He shakes his head again.

"Why not?" She asks in annoyance, looking up at the black sky.

He picks up a rock and brings it up to his head, feigns pain and then wiggles his hands in the air. She raises an eyebrow at him so he acts it out again.

"You... hit your head... on a rock and... and now you can't talk?"

He grins at her and nods rapidly – this was easier than he thought it would be.

"That's going to be a bit of a pain," Moorgarna decides and he frowns. He could still answer yes or no questions by nodding and shaking his head. "Can you repeat things?"

He shrugs his shoulders. He hadn't really tried talking. All he'd done was run for the past few days.

"We could try, couldn't we? Say 'hello'."

Merlin pauses for a moment, concentrating on the word. "He..."

"Lo," Moorgarna helps him.

"Heh...loh. Hehloh!" Merlin exclaims brightly.

The girl – oh, what was her name again? - Moorgarna, smiles. "How about... tree?"

"Tareey."

"Fire?"

"Fiyah."

"Um... Morgana?"

"Moorgarna," Merlin says proudly. That was _her_ name.

"Horse."

"Horsssa."

"King."

"Kiinngh."

"Sex."

"Sekkhs."

Moorgarna giggles and his eyes light up. This word _pleased_ her.

"Sekkhs," he repeats, bobbing his head as he says each word. "Sekkhs, sekkhs, sekkhs." What was a sekkhs again?

"So, you can copy what I say and you can understand me. That's not so bad," she says with a yawn, resting her head back against the tree trunk.

Merlin nods. It wasn't _so_ bad. He inches a bit closer to the fire and curls up into a ball. About to fall asleep and with his eyes nearly shut, she asks him:

"Are you an elf?"

He sits up again and shakes his head at her. What on Earth was she talking about?

"Sorry, I had to ask," she apologises. "You just remind me of one."

He stares at her, confused. Was she trying to insult him?

"A bit. Not in a mean way," she blurts out suddenly. "You just... do."

Merlin plucks two blades of grass from the ground and starts knotting them together, unsure of what gesture to use.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," Moorgarna says quickly.

He shrugs and settles down again, still playing with the pieces of grass. She hadn't offended him. He just couldn't remember what elves looked like. Because his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure. But the one thing he was sure of was that the next time he woke up Moorgarna would probably have left him.

**What do you think? Should I split them up? ;)**

**Sorry this is a shorter chapter than last time, but I hope the Merlin/Morgana interactions made up for it! Oh yeah, I made up the thing about elves, sorry.**

**Thank you all for your reviews, follows and favourites! I didn't think there would be so many so soon, but I'm very happy about it! **

**Sorry for any mistakes and thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

It is mid-morning now, they have been walking for a few hours. Merlin was starting to wonder why it was so hot, but then he remembered that is was summer. And summer meant sun. Lots and lots of sun.

The light was flickered all across the path in little patches because of the leaves on the trees. It was making him dizzy and at one point he had been watching the bright spots rather than where he was going and had walked into a tree. Moorgarna had laughed at this and he had thought about doing it again, but his forehead felt like someone had thrown a brick at it. Or a rock. Were rocks and bricks the same thing? He couldn't remember.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . **

Earlier this morning, Moorgarna had woken him up by poking him in the shoulder, which admittedly he wasn't very happy about. But it was good of her to wake him because he needed to keep walking and apparently so did she.

"I'm running away," Moorgarna had told him.

He had wanted to ask why and who she was running from, but he couldn't. He could only repeat things she'd said in the past 2 minutes or so and sometimes even that was a struggle.

"Running ahwaey?"

"A-way," she had corrected him and he had scowled. It wasn't _his_ fault. "Yes, I'm trying to get revenge on the man who murdered my father."

His shoulders had slumped back against his tree. Why did she have to keep using such long, silly words?

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . **

So now they were walking in an unknown direction to both of them. Moorgarna had said it was East and even though he thought she was making it up as she went along, he really had no choice not to follow her. Since their journey had begun, Moorgarna had used even more long, silly words which saddened him greatly because he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

He'd remembered the word though! Moorgarna was... pretty. And she had a nice laugh. The laughing bit was good because he was so clumsy that she was laughing and smiling every minute or so. This made him happy, too. The shallow scratches on his legs from the prickle bush he'd fallen into and the sting on his arm from the bumble bee he'd angered made the smiles and the giggles worthwhile. And if she really was running away, then she definitely needed cheering up.

"I'm boiling, are you?" Moorgarna asks him, fanning herself with a leaf to try and keep herself cool.

"Boiling," Merlin repeats with a nod.

"Do you know where we can get water? A stream, perhaps? We need to cool down, otherwise we'll get ill," she says, but all he hears is 'water' and 'stream'. So, he takes her hand in his and pulls her away from the main path they were following.

He was _sure_ there was water nearby! He couldn't remember a lot, mainly only silly things, but some things, interesting things, like the river he'd seen a few days ago, he was fortunate enough to remember.

Moorgarna stumbles after him as he races away, pulling her with him and barely dodging the trees that stood in their way.

"Where are we going?" She yells at him as they flit through the greenery, her cape snagging on thing branches and sticks.

"Wahta!"

"You know where some is?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" He chants excitedly, and then abruptly stops running as he brings them both into a clearing.

It was just as he'd remembered it in his head. There is a thin, yet deep stream running through the middle of the clearing and there are tiny, white flowers embedded in the grass. Daisies. That's what the flowers were called!

Moorgarna follows him into the space between the between the infinite trees and sits down near the running water, dunking her hands into it. He sits down next to her and does the same, the surprisingly icy water shocking his hot skin as it swirls around his fingers.

He stares off into the woodland as he thinks to himself. There are so many things he wants to ask her, but can't. He wants to ask her about her father because she had said something about him this morning and he wanted to know more. He wanted to ask her where she came from and why wasn't the rest of her family out looking for her? It didn't make sense. Nothing did. He just wanted to know things, because at the moment he didn't know anything.

"Moorgarna..."

"What?"

"H-how... you... wh-why... urgh!" He pulls up a clump of grass and throws it into the stream out of frustration.

"It's okay," she reassures him gently.

But Merlin shakes his head and starts picking off blades of grass that had stuck to his wet hands. It was _not_ okay at all. She was the only one who could have the conversations. They move back to sit in the shade of an oak tree, the leaves preventing the sun's rays from blasting their pale skin.

"Can we eat those?" Moorgarna asks him after a while, pointing at a bush with some light red berries on. He shrugs. "I mean, are they poisonous?"

He frowns and looks over at a different bush with dark red berries on it and then back at the one Moorgarna had pointed to. Someone - he didn't know who - had told him once told him about which berries were poisonous and which berries weren't. The trouble was, he couldn't remember if it was the light berries or the dark ones. His mind was all muddled and he just wasn't sure.

"Well?" Moorgarna interrupts his concentrated thought process. "Do you know?"

He stands from the tree and picks one of each fruit and then brings them back to her. He holds up the lighter berry, pretends to eat it and then draws his finger across his throat, pulling a face like someone had just sliced his head off. He does the same with the darker berry. And then shrugs.

"You don't know which one is poisonous?"

He grins at her and nods, secretly proud of both of her and himself. They made a good team.

"How are we going to find out then?"

Merlin offers her a hand and she stands with him. He picks one handful of dark red berries and motions for her to do the same with the light red ones. One they have around 20 or so, he walks a few metres away from the clearing and places his berries into a pile. She copies him, the piles about a foot away from each other.

"Now what?" Moorgarna asks him impatiently. "Do we just wait?"

He nods and she sighs.

"But I'm hungry!"

He doesn't use any communication and sits down in the shadows again and so does Moorgarna, next to him. She starts gathering twigs and daisies together in a small heap at her legs. She picks up one stick and bends it in half. It snaps. She throws the pieces into the stream and he sees them float away on the current.

She selects another twig and this one bends easily without snapping and she is able to pull it into a tight circle and then tie it into place with an aged reed. She does the same with another stick and entwines the two circles. She then pulls a stronger, fresher reed out of the soil by the stream and starts weaving it around the two stick shapes, binding them together. He watches, unknown to her, completely fascinated.

Two more reeds are dug out and wound around the sticks, making it thicker. Moorgarna then picks up some of the daisies and starts making a chain out of them. Once this task has been completed, the ring of flowers is then curled around the green band, with the ends tied together to hold it in place.

Moorgarna looks up and their eyes meet. "Why are you watching me?"

He feels his cheeks heat up and turns away – his fingernails were very interesting all of a sudden, the short, stubby ends catching his gaze. He sneaks a glance at her hands. They looked so much more delicate than his. They'd felt softer than his hands when he'd joined them to take her to the stream.

"Do you know how to make them?"

He eventually brings himself to shake his head.

"Do you want to make one?"

He wrinkles his nose up at her. Bracelets were for _girls. _But they had still had a little while longer to wait. And there was no-one around to see. So he nods and she hands a few twigs and reeds. The first two sticks snap, but the third one bends perfectly. The reeds tear in two and the petals fall off of the daisies, but he eventually gets there.

Moorgarna smiles as he hands her the wonky band, turning it over to inspect it. "It's good," she compliments and he grins. She tries to give it back to him but he pushes it towards her, sliding it down her wrist. "Thanks."

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because that's the only reason I write this!**

**Next chapter will be from Morgana's perspective, kind of.**

**Please review! It makes me a very happy person! Thanks for the one review I got last chapter and for all of the follows and favourites! **

**Thank you all for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Moorgarna has fallen asleep on him. He doesn't like it. It is awkward and annoying because if he moves he will surely wake her. He knows she doesn't want to wake up because if she did she would've done that herself. She also looks very tired. There are dark circles around her eyes. Tired people don't like being woken up. But it was still no excuse for sleeping in the middle of the day and on his shoulder.

She keeps jiggling around in her sleep, too. Saying things. He can't understand what she says, either because he can't remember what the words mean or because she doesn't say it properly. Every so often, she flinches a bit and digs her fingernails into his bare arm, gripping it tightly. It hurts and he is sure he has seen some thin, red dents in his skin already.

But he still doesn't move. He desperately wants to; his legs are starting to ache from being sat down for _ages_ and he wants to go and check on the piles of berries. He needs to know which ones are poisonous or not. If he doesn't find out, they will either starve or eat the wrong ones and die. He doesn't like the sound of any of those options.

He keeps forgetting to ask Moorgarna where Ealdor is. When she is awake, he forgets to ask her. When he remembers, she is asleep. She is a very inconvenient person.

It wasn't like he could ask her, anyway. Not with words. It is hard to think of a way to explain it to her. He could try using the hand movements again, but they weren't very reliable and Moorgarna often thought he was doing other things that made her cheeks turn bright red and squeal with laughter. He wasn't sure _what_ exactly she thought he was trying to say or do, but it made her happy so he did it all the more.

And what was that thing she had said about him being an elf? Were elves nice? Was she being kind to him? Perhaps he was an elf and that's why the red capes were after him. Maybe she was an elf, too. They did look alike. Moorgarna the elf... maybe not.

She is jiggling around even more now, muttering something he can't understand. He sighs deeply; he wishes he could sleep, too. It is so sunny and warm, his skin heated by the hot light from the sun, and there is a small, cool breeze blowing over them. He can hear the birds' chirping fading off into the back of his mind and he can feel his body relaxing and eyelids becoming heavier and heavier as he tries to keep them open. He could just let his head rest back against the tree, his cheek resting on the top of Moorgarna's head... he can smell her hair, it smells so nice... like flowers... if he could just sleep...

_No_, he thinks, snapping his eyes back open and shaking his head to get rid of the warm, fuzz that seemed to be filling it. If he went to sleep as well, then there would be no-one to keep lookout for the red capes and whoever Moorgarna was running away from. He might not be very good at fighting and he doesn't have a weapon, but it is his job to protect them. Especially if Moorgarna was going to fall asleep on him all the time.

But, if he wasn't going to sleep then he had to get up. Otherwise he might get really bored. So, he slides out of their semi-embrace and swivels around so he is in front of Moorgarna. She releases her hold of his arm and frowns in her sleep at his loss. He cups her cheek in his palm to keep her head upright while he unclasps her cape from around her shoulders, bundling it up into a ball. He places it down on the grass and gently guides her face down to lay on the replacement pillow. Remarkably, she stays asleep and he smiles his relief as she continues her afternoon sleep lying down.

Merlin gets up slowly, just in case he makes a noise, and treads carefully over to the piles of berries that were a few trees away and hidden behind some green shrubs. Grabbing a handful of leaves, he pushes the bushes to the side to get a better look at the berries.

The plan has worked. Only the lighter coloured berries remain and there is a small, brown bird next to them, twitching in the grass. Happy that his idea has been successful, he wants to call back to Moorgarna, to tell her that they can eat the dark berries, but then he remembers that she is asleep. She is _very_ inconvenient.

He kneels down to scoop up the little bird. It is so small it can fit in his hand. It could even be a baby bird, fallen out of its nest and trying to survive. It must have felt wonderful when it had come across the berries. Of course, being a baby bird, it wouldn't have known which ones were poisonous, so it just ate the ones closest to it. And now it is dying and it is his fault. This makes him sad.

A cold, tingling sensation starts in his shoulder and spreads down his arm, heading towards the bird. The feeling makes him jump and shiver and he nearly drops the bird, but manages to hang on to it without crushing it. The icy prickling carries on right up to his fingertips and he stares at his hand as he tries to figure out what is happening.

The cold tingles turn into a boiling liquid, shooting up through his arm and around his hand. He yelps in surprise and falls back on his bottom, still holding the bird up. He feels the brown, feathery creature flutter against his palm as his vision flashes with a bright, yellow light, almost as bright as the sun. His surroundings blur and mesh together, the blue sky and green leaves on the trees mix with each other, the colours swirling around in the back of his eyes.

Then, whatever was happening to him finishes and his sight returns to normal. He is flat on his back in the grass, breathing heavily and staring up at the sky. The bird is gone. That had _not_ been a pleasant experience.

"What happened to you?" Moorgarna stands over him with her hands on her hips, nudging the toe of her boot gently into his side.

The sudden sound of her voice startles him even more and he moves a hand up to cover his face from any attack. When no pain is inflicted, he brings his hand back down to face Moorgarna. She looks upset for a moment and as if she wants to say something, but then the expression quickly disappears and starts to wonder if he had imagined it.

"Well?" She continues, clearing her throat. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head violently and feels faint because of it. Moorgarna extends her arm out for him to take and he does so, with her pulling him up most of the way. Either she is very strong or he doesn't weigh much. "Not... hurt," he replies hesitantly, unsure of whether he is using the right words.

"That's good," Moorgarna says as she pats some dust off of his shoulder. "What were you yelling about, anyway? You woke me. How long was I asleep?" She asks accusingly.

He shrugs, feeling distraught. He had thought she just wanted to be asleep. He doesn't want her to be angry. Especially not with him.

Moorgarna huffs at him and kicks the leaves. "Well? How long? A few minutes? Half an hour? An hour?"

He is completely baffled by the words she is using, but decides on the last one. "Ahwa?"

Moorgarna looks like she is going to explode. She grabs hold of his shirt with both hands and throws him to the floor.

"You idiot!" She yells at him and he wants to cry. "How could you let me fall asleep for that long? In the middle of the day? What if Uther had found me? He'd have made me go back! Don't you see? He would've killed you! For God's sake, Arth-" She stops herself from saying a name halfway through. She sighs as she notices the distress on his face and the tears in his eyes.

"Sohrey," he whispers. He just wants her to be happy and smiley and laughing again. It was nicer that way. Much nicer. He coughs to get her attention and attempts conversation. "Berrees?"

She sits down at the roots of the tree she had slept near, exhausted from her fight with him. "I'm not hungry."

He _is_ hungry but he doesn't want to eat the berries if Moorgarna isn't.

"Now what?" Moorgarna asks him, like she is expecting him to answer. "I need to get as far away from Camelot as I possibly can. What about you?"

He shrugs. The only place he didn't want to be was with the red capes and there were none of them around.

"We'll keep heading East then. We'll follow the river until we find some shelter."

He nods, all thoughts of Ealdor hidden in the back of his mind.

**Hey, guys! Sincere apologies for not updating in four months, but I'm back with a new chapter! I haven't given up on this story, which you might be pleased to know, I was just busy writing another one. I hope you all aren't too enraged at me!**

**I suggest that as it's been such a long time since we last saw each other, you go back and read the first three chapters, to remind yourself what's going on in the forest. I'll try to get the rest of this done soon!**

**Please review to tell me your thoughts or just to let me know that you're still out there!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

It turns out that they _are_ heading east, much to Morgana's relief. It had been an uneducated guess and she hadn't wanted to have been wrong because the boy might have laughed at her. And she never liked being wrong, particularly when she argued with Uther. They could argue for days on end without relent, but when she ignored him or refused to eat at dinner, he would always yield. Always. Because he was a coward and she was not.

Reminded of her hatred for the man who killed her father, Morgana walks faster, storming through the forest at such a speed that the boy has to run to keep up.

"What's your name?" She asks him as he dashes alongside her.

He stops running and she stops walking. "You... Moorgarna," he manages to say, breathing heavily.

"Yes, that's me. But who are you?"

He frowns and scratches the back of his neck, looking as though he doesn't even understand the question. Then he carries on walking as if she'd never asked him. She matches his pace.

"Who are you?" She tries again, desperate to get something out of him. Either he is ignoring her or he's deaf. For once in her life, Morgana lets the matter go. They walk in silence for a few hours, comfortable with not speaking to each other and just concentrating on their own thoughts.

Morgana thinks a lot, about her father and Uther and herself. But mainly about the boy who is currently in her company. She had already decided that he wasn't an elf because although his ears were large, they weren't pointy. Also, elves were clever. This boy _clearly_ wasn't a patch on her physician, Gaius. If he was, he wouldn't have been stupid enough to fall and hit his head on a rock in the first place.

So, the only conclusion she could come to at the moment was that he was a human being. He wasn't a druid, she had looked at both of his wrists earlier and she hadn't seen any marks or symbols. Uther said she needed to do this every time she was on her own when she met someone new. It was important because if the person had the symbol on their skin, they would hurt her. But this was Uther and she couldn't trust what he said. Sorcerers and druids couldn't be trusted either. Sometimes it felt like there was no one to trust.

Perhaps she could trust this boy, though. He hadn't done anything to hurt her, apart from knock her out cold when they'd slammed heads a few days ago, but that had been accidental. She reaches up to feel the receding lump on her forehead. It was still painful to touch, but the swelling had gone down. Hopefully it wasn't anything too serious.

And she was sure that he hadn't meant to let her sleep for so long. He had probably thought he had done the right thing, letting her rest. Only for her to wake up and throw him to the floor, shouting at him. He had flinched, too. Like she was going to hurt him. Her insides twinge with guilt. Perhaps she should be nice to him now. If she wasn't, he might leave her to journey on her own and she didn't want that.

He was the only real friend she had at the moment and, although she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, she didn't want to risk losing him. He was also quite attractive in a strange sort of way.

She feels herself blush and forces the topic to the back of her mind. What did it matter if the boy was the _slightest_ bit good-looking? It didn't. It wasn't like she could ever marry him... or want to, even. She was a princess and he was a... well, he wasn't a prince, to put it nicely. He wasn't a Duke, either. Uther said that he wouldn't let her marry anyone lower than a Duke. She had then proceeded to tell him that she didn't want to marry a man with any kind of title because they were pompous, arrogant, stupid and chopped people's heads off for no reason. Uther had then clocked on that she was insulting him, banishing her to her chambers for the rest of the day.

She feels a tug on her shoulder and turns around to see the boy pointing into the distance. She squints her eyes and can just about make out a hut hidden between the willow trees. She mentally kicks herself – if the boy hadn't seen it, she'd have walked straight past it.

"Well done," she compliments him reluctantly, wishing she'd found it herself. "Let's go and look inside."

"Well done, well done, well done," he repeats happily, bobbing his head again. "Well done."

"Shh. Stop that. I need to concentrate." They approach the door with caution. The boy holds a stick behind his head and she takes her dagger out of its belt, ready to fend off any unwelcome inhabitants. After waiting to hear for any movements inside, Morgana kicks the door open, dagger drawn and ready to fight.

They must look ridiculous, poised outside an empty hovel with sticks and knives. She sighs at her own stupidity and enters their shelter, unclasping her cloak and resting it on a chair.

It is musty, dusty and more than on the shabby side, but she can't complain. There is a table in the centre of the room and two chairs placed around it. There is a small bed cramped up in the corner, shielded by a curtain. A moth-eaten rug lies crumpled on the floor and the boy trips over it, flailing his arms out as he falls head first on the wooden floorboards. She snorts with laughter as he tries to recover, coughing violently and scraping out cobwebs from his hair. The disturbance causes a thousand tiny dust particles to float up and around them, shimmering in the low light.

"I suppose this will do," she announces in a curt voice, drawing a face in the dust on the table with her index finger. The boy does the same, creating one next to hers and giving it a smile and a few short strands of hair. Morgana quickly gives hers hair too, making it long and slightly curly. The boy stands back to admire their simple drawings, his grin is infectious and she finds herself smiling, too.

"Shall we collect some berries now?" She asks him, now feeling an intense hunger that was almost nauseating. He nods earnestly, clearly feeling something like this as well.

He shows her to pick the darker berries instead of the lighter ones, placing them in the basket they had found at the back of the hut. They manage to collect a lot, only stopping when their weaved container is full to the brim.

By the time they get back to their shelter, her stomach is cramping in hunger, painful aches rippling out against her body. She sways over to the bed in the corner and collapses on it. The boy watches her, confused.

"Moorgarna?" He drops the berries down on the table and runs to her, pulling the sheets up to cover her shoulders. She groans loudly as the pain worsens and rolls over on her side, clutching at the blankets. "Berrees?"

"Yes," she hisses out and he promptly feeds her one, pressing it between her lips. Sweetness explodes in her mouth and makes her the insides of the cheeks ache, but she savours the taste and he gives her another. He continues to feed her until there are only a handful of berries left, which he eats himself. It was a good idea, really. They couldn't both be ill.

She sighs in relief as her stomach relents from the cramping and growling, allowing her to relax. The boy stands over her, staring.

"Moorgarna?" He sounds hopeful.

She moves over slightly so that he can lie down, too. He is taller than she originally thought, his legs stretching out so far that his boots hit the wooden board at the end of the bed. He turns on his side so that they are facing each other, their heads resting on the pillows. She makes eye contact with him for longer than was really necessary and he smiles innocently at her.

The urge to hug him is overwhelming, and she winds her arms around his small shoulders, pulling him closer. He stiffens for a moment, as if unsure of her motives, but when she rests her head against his neck and shuts her eyes, he relaxes, hugging her back.

With each minute that passes, Morgana can feel herself growing more and more attached to this boy, to the company that he provided. She didn't know his name, where he came from, what he was doing in these woods in the first place.

What she did know was that she didn't want to be without him. Her journey away from Camelot was not one she wanted to spend alone, especially as she didn't have a plan. She didn't know where she was going. She doesn't even know what there is to gain from this constant walking, so far it's been nothing but tiredness and pain. How far is she going to go? Is there a limit, a boundary to how far she walks? What if Uther wasn't even looking for her? What if she couldn't find the way back?

This sudden reality sends a cold jolt of fear to her heart, making it beat at such a pace that it seemed like it was jumping out of her chest. She clings to the boy next to her and for the first time in her life, Morgana feels lost, completely and utterly lost.

But the feeling disappears entirely when a large, bearded man bursts through the door of their shelter, ordering them to stand while pointing a sword dangerously close to their faces.

XXX

**Oh dear, Merlin and Morgana have gotten themselves into a spot of bother! I wonder how they'll get out of it…**

**Big thanks to 'whatswiththemustache' for the reviews for the last four chapters and to the other 24 of you who have clicked the 'follow' button along the way! Maybe you can all spare me some reviews; smiley faces are fine :) just like that. Maybe even a sentence or two?**

**Thanks for reading!**


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